


Seducing Mr. Shibuya

by cemetarytimes



Category: Kyou Kara Maou!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-02-07 16:39:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1906173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cemetarytimes/pseuds/cemetarytimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>YuuRam, AU. Set in the real world, this story revolves around a selfish boy on his way to selflessness, the perfect son who suddenly finds competition and most importantly his obsession with the one thing he can't get.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

When Wolfram was a baby, he would always make sure to tear away his mother's attention from his older brothers in a blinding hailstorm of what seemed to be neverending screaming. When he enrolled in kindergarden, he would make sure to be the sole owner of the best toys available to ensure himself friendships with who he considered the right children, tossing the remaining children, however ungracefully, aside. When in school, he made sure to wear the absolute best and to comb his hair to perfection, creating what he considered to be the perfect image of himself. 

Wolfram strived for success. In junior high school he had the best average, and upon graduating senior high school he had a flawless GPA. However selfish, childish and flat out rude was, Wolfram was the perfect child. He had gotten into his respectable country's best and biggest university and had now, at 22, graduated with a bachelor in marketing and accounting, again with the best grades possible, for however ill tempered and restless Wolfram could be, image was everything to him. In fact, there was only one thing that mattered more, but we will get to that later.

"What are you planning to do now?" Gwendal asked. He plucked a piece of meat from his plate with his fork and stuffed it into his mouth, looking at Wolfram with grave, dark eyes. 

Gwendal knew that Wolfram had already applied for something as the deadline for doing so had long since passed, but working overseas it wasn't often he got to see, or even hear from, his family. He had a secret wish that Wolfram would follow in his own footsteps. Their brother Conrad he had long since given up on. 

Gwendal was the most successful of the three brothers. With a masters degree in economy he was now working for a large, international enterprise with a fat salary. He had married his high school sweetheart and had with her granted Wolfram no less than three nephews. 

"Actually, I applied for the bachelors program in Japanese," said Wolfram. He put down his cutlery and folded his arms on the table, straightening his back a little. The restaurant chirped with life from around them, and a waitress passed their table for two with a made up dish for a pair of love birds in the corner.

Gwendal quirked his eyebrow a little and his chewing became slower until it finally diminished in a hasty swallow. "Japanese?" he asked, indicating that he would like to hear Wolfram's reasoning for choosing such an odd subject to spend three years of his life studying. He was aware of his brother's interest in the Japanese culture of course, but he wasn't aware that he would go to such ridiculous lengths to fulfill what was to Gwendal such an undiserable pleasure.

Wolfram had already been to Japan no less than three times for holiday purposes. Since first going, he had fallen in love with the culture, not to mention the people, who were anything but obnoxious and rude, something he often found his own culture to be. And he was not an exception to the rule of course. 

"Indeed," said Wolfram. "Our country trades oil and fish with Japan on a daily basis. Do you even know how much you can make in the major enterprises, being fluent in Japanese?" Gwendal shook his head and sighed a little. 

"Well you have already applied so I guess there is no talking you out of it at this point," he said. His way of half heartedly giving his blessing. Wolfram nodded towards him in gratitude and Gwendal waved at the waiter. 

"We would like the bill," he said, causing Wolfram to narrow his eyebrows ever so slightly. The waiter only nodded and soon fled towards the counter, only happy to receive payment from yet another customer. 

"I wasn't done with that, you know," said Wolfram and snorted a little, glaring at his oldest brother in intense annoyance. Gwendal only nodded and got up from his seat. He grabbed his coat, indicating that Wolfram should do the same. 

"I know," he said when Wolfram rose from his seat. They followed the waiter as soon as Wolfram had collected his belongings. Gwendal paid, and they soon left, both now silent, dreadful in their own separate ways. Gwendal's last two words would be the last ones spoken between the two brothers in a very long time.

Wolfram had never been more relieved to start school when fall finally rolled around. Different city, new people. Hopefully more decent than the ones he had left behind, who had caused an unnecessary amount of drama during the holidays. When the first time students had to do their share of philosophy next to their Japanese studies, he could even feel a little smug about himself. There were few things he found better than observing other people struggle for something he had already achieved. 

The Japanese class was different to Wolfram in many ways than his first bachelor class had been. There were many otakus, a popular Japanese term for people particularly interested in the anime and manga universe, a universe that Wolfram had, perhaps a little shamefully, barely ever entered. In other words, nerds. 

There was one feeling that had started to grow within Wolfram upon arriving in this new city, and that was loneliness. He somehow didn't fit in amongst his fellow students; he was not into bushido, not into Japanese card games, whatever they were called, and he did not know what had happened in the latest chapter of Naruto Shippuuden. He was alone even appearance wise; no one stressed over the brand of their clothes, or if said clothes had to be dry cleaned or if perhaps their hair was a little bit messy. His own blonde was as perfectly combed as it could be for as long as Wolfram could help it.

For the first time in his life, he found it difficult to find friends and people to associate himself with, but there was another first to find place - Wolfram didn't strive to know these people because he usually found such, _nerds,_ to exist on the other side of his fence. Fortunately for him, there was at least one other green straw of grass amongst all the dull ones.


	2. Jugyo: The Afternoon Class

Jugyo was the Japanese term for afternoon classes. While having been around for ages, jugyo first bloomed in 2002 when Japan abolished school on Saturdays to grant children more free time. In its place, jugyo was allowed to grow and was soon a common event for school children. 

Jugyo were usually run in the private sector, by schools mostly, but also by housewives who ran the afternoon classes in their own living space to help their husbands with expenses. However critisized, afternoon classes were not all school work, but had in fact also become a place for students to meet and socialize.

Wolfram's first encounter with the phenomenon had been somewhat different. Badly organised and badly taught, his university had provided a cramped room and a Japanese exchange student who had the class introduce themselves in Japanese, that which they had already learned in their first morning class two weeks before. Furthermore, Wolfram was in the advanced group, its name alone indicating it was for people who already felt they had some experience with Japanese. 

It was only the fourth week of school, but Wolfram already felt like something was missing. Whether it was normal people or a proper learning environment like there had been at his previous university, he did not know. He only knew that he missed it sorely. Well it was a long time ago now and Wolfram was urging to go back, but for the time being he was stuck in his current university's canteen with the only other sane person attending. 

"So what do you think of this colour?" Doria asked. She stared at her nails, those which she was currently busy tending to. They were painted perfectly in sparkly pink nail polish from Deborah Lipmann designs. Wolfram sighed and sipped his coffee. 

"You know I hate sparkly make up," he said and rolled his eyes a little, making Doria sigh. She had truly wanted a gay best friend, but Wolfram was so heartless. Which was probably her main reason for liking him.

"You could try Essie's Russian Roulette," Wolfram tried. "I think red would really go with your eyes." Doria's eyes were that of deep, chocolate brown, and differed greatly from Wolfram's bright green ones. Red nail polish would have never suited him for sure.

"But you hate Essie," said Doria. It was now her turn to roll her eyes. "The last time I even indicated that I would like to buy something from them, you called me cheap."

"I was just saying the colour is nice," said Wolfram with a shrug. He poured another small packet of box milk into his coffee, which was still too dark for his liking, causing him to wrinkle his nose. He would have to get yet another packet, it seemed. "Perhaps OPI has something resembling it."

"Perhaps," said Doria and stirred her black tea slowly, deep in thought as if though she was thinking hard about Wolfram's advice. She soon emerged from her own little private bubble, and smiled at Wolfram, brushing a couple of blonde curls off her face.

"Anyway, how was your first afternoon class last week?" she asked. "How is your tutor?" 

"The class was actually horrible," said Wolfram. His eyes widened, his facial expression indicating the class had granted him a mixture of pain and shock. "The classroom, if I can even call it that, was cramped because we were too many people, and Sachie could have taught us something more useful than 'my name is blabla and I am this old'."

"You were too many?" Doria asked, surprised. "But you are in the advanced class, right? For people who already know some Japanese." Wolfram nodded. While it was true that he had known simple phrases such as good morning and good afternoon from before of, his main reason for attending the advanced class was not that he was amazingly good in Japanese, but that he wanted to challenge himself and, if possible, learn more during a short period of time. If his tutor would ever get over being useless, that was.

"Well yes, but apparently the timing is perfect for many of the economy students," he said. Wolfram didn't really like the economy students; they were loud, and were only in the Japanese class for extra credits, yet they acted as if though they owned it. But then again Wolfram didn't really like his own classmates either, except from Doria that was, but at least their presence had a purpose of some sort.

"Anyway, it's not important," said Wolfram and shook his head. Only thinking about them made him uncomfortable. "How was your afternoon class? Your tutor is the guy, right?"

"Yuuri, yes," said Doria and nodded. "Our class was also quite crowded, and it was a complete waste of time. He, Yuuri, just wrote a lot of katakana on the blackboard, and we only just finished learning hiragana!"

"Weird," said Wolfram and got up. "Being Japanese you would think he'd be more considerate."

"Yeah. Where are you going?" Doria asked, passing Wolfram, who pointed at the coffee stand, a curious look.

"This coffee still needs more milk," he said, eyeing his coffee, which he proceeded to pick up. "Kind of like your tutor." He smirked slightly at his own joke and Doria leaned back into her chair, folding her arms.

"That's a horrible thing to say," she said and giggled, shaking her head in disbelief. Wolfram tilted his head, his green eyes smugly watching her.

"Is it?" he asked. He didn't wait around for Doria's response, and soon headed for the coffee stand where he was sure to grant his coffee the perfect touch of milk. 

\--

It was now mid October. Wolfram was sure time had never passed by so slowly as it had since he had come to this god forsaken city. He was currently heading for his afternoon class, relieved his previous class had finally come to an end. 

Wolfram had afternoon classes every Thursday from six to eight after what he was convinced was the most boring class in the history of men; multicultural understanding. Doria, on the other hand, argued that philosophy was worse, something Wolfram might have agreed to a couple of years ago when he'd had to take the philosophy course. Multicultural understanding wasn't completely useless of course, he was well aware of that, but the classes were hosted by a monotone teacher who seemed to have never seen the light of day, a likely theory considering they lived in the capital of grey skies. 

The afternoon classes, although finding place very late, were therefore a nice way to finish a week of school as Wolfram did not have classes on Fridays. They had only gotten better and better since the first time as well seeing as though the economy students never attended anymore, leaving their classroom more spacious. Sachie, Wolfram's tutor, seemed to be more relaxed too and even came up with things to teach the class, like common phrases not taught in the morning classes for instance.

Wolfram, who was the first one to arrive as usual, soon settled into the wee classroom. He silently wished Doria had been in his group, but she had no previous experience with Japanese at all and had even stopped attending her afternoon classes, claiming they were useless. Wolfram's classmates soon started arriving, talking among themselves; they never spoke a word to him for as long as they could avoid to. 

He had wondered if it perhaps was his deodorant or the way his hair had been acting up lately, but people generally didn't seem to speak to him, something that puzzled him greatly. Usually, Wolfram was well liked among girls because they all hungered for a gbf, and he was well liked among the guys because he was well liked among the girls. But here, he felt that people were avoiding him, and he was dying to know why. Perhaps he had to reconsider the Hugo Boss perfume he had recently purchased.

Wolfram's chain of thoughts was interrupted when the class suddenly quieted down, caused by the classroom door opening. Sachie had arrived, and it was time to stop chatting and put away electronic devices. Wolfram set his phone on silent and slipped it into his pocket, looking up. To his surprise, however, Sachie was not the person standing by the blackboard. In fact, it wasn't even a girl.

"Good afternoon," said some of the students in Japanese, greeting the person who had come instead of Sachie. Wolfram pressed his lips together, not allowing for even the smallest sound to escape from them. 

"Good afternoon," the boy replied in Japanese, nodding towards the class. He then switched to English. "Sachie has fever, so..." He trailed off, as if though he didn't quite know how to finish the sentence, but everyone, at least Wolfram, realised that this had to be Yuuri, the other tutor, and that he was filling in for Sachie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AUTHORS NOTE: I have included Doria in this chapter as Wolfram's (newly acquainted) best friend. I would like to apologise if anyone feels that she is out of character; I was originally going to create an oc to play the role of Wolfram's best friend, but I thought I might as well use a character from KKM that you guys can relate to. Because she is not (obviously) playing the role of a servant or someone 'beneath' Wolfram (or anyone else for that matter) in this story, she appears differently. 
> 
> I would also like to add that I know Yuuri's English might seem a bit off (sometimes) when he speaks, and I am fully aware. I am intentionally writing his English badly due to my own experience with (most) English speaking Japanese. It will also play somewhat of a part in later chapters...


	3. The Japanese Man

There was nothing more beautiful than the Tokyo skyline. That was the first impression Wolfram had gotten when in Japan for the first time. The second was the heat. The way it hit him like a thick wall of hot, compressed air was enough to send him to the deepest depths of hell wearing nothing but a sweaty t-shirt and a pair of shorts so small they could pass as underwear. 

The third impression he got was of the Japanese men. While it should be mentioned that Wolfram was instantly impressed by the kindness and discretion of the Japanese people as a whole, he specifically admired the Japanese men even more. It was not just the fact that they could work for countless hours during the day or that they performed their work with the utmost grace, but it was that they could wear suits, even when the temperatures reached heights that Wolfram would later refrain from thinking about as the heat, weather wise, that was, wasn't something he particularly enjoyed. Suits, on the other hand, he adored. There was nothing Wolfram wanted more than a man who would wear a suit, even at 40 degrees celcius and without having to wave himself to the moon and back with the help of the commonly used Japanese fan. 

And so, Wolfram had made a decision. He was going to marry a Japanese man. It didn't matter to him what he would have to do to reach said goal; eat sushi every day, unwillingly sunbathe in temperatures from hell; Wolfram didn't even care that gay marriage was illegal in Japan. He just knew that one day he would lean over the counter in a cute, little apron with the curry all set up and his Japanese husband would say "honey, I'm home." Wearing his suit. Which Wolfram would tear to pieces before devouring his dessert.

It wasn't that Wolfram hadn't sometimes strayed from his life plan. He enjoyed the well-built bodies of Europeans for sure and he had even snuck a sneak peek of his professor, but there was nothing he enjoyed more than receive curious glances from the Japanese men roaming the streets of Tokyo. He desired the attention he could receive simply from having natural blonde hair accompanied by a pair of sparkling, green eyes. 

Yuuri Shibuya was around Wolfram’s height, and he was slim. He wore a straight, blue shirt and jeans and his hair was so messy Wolfram would think he had just fallen out of bed. But he did have hair, that was an important point, and he had nice hands, holding lightly onto _Genki I_. 

“I guess I am little late,” said Yuuri foolishly and grinned, scratching the back of his head. His teeth were as straight and white as the sheets Wolfram’s mother hung out to dry in the summer. 

“I hear you guys are really good in Japanese,” Yuuri continued. After closing the door he sat down by the table, putting his copy of their textbook on top of it. “So… I want you guys to speak Japanese,” he added. He first had them introduce themselves in Japanese since he didn’t know any of the students in Wolfram’s group, before he got up from his seat again and wrote some topics on the blackboard. 

He wrote kanjis. Wolfram sighed. They had scarcely gone through chapter 1 of _Kanji: look and learn_ and those only covered numbers 1-10 and a few more extras. Was this guy an idiot? It wasn’t that everyone in the room were brilliant in Japanese, and if they were they were better in terms of speaking than in reading. 

“Do you know how to read the kanjis?” he asked. One of Wolfram’s classmates shrugged. 

“No idea,” he said with a shrug. The classmate, Martin that was, was chubby, and Wolfram didn’t really like him, for even so, and despite the way he dressed, and despite the fact that he was sweaty to the point of being really smelly, he seemed cocky. 

“You’re from the east, aren’t you?” Martin added kindly. Wolfram’s, who was interrupted in his own silent judgement, eyes widened a little. Martin’s question had caught him by surprise. 

“… Yes,” Wolfram replied kindly. He blinked a little, looking at Martin, who laughed a little at Wolfram before engaging in a story of how he had worked as a teacher in the city Wolfram came from a couple of years earlier, again to Wolfram’s surprise. Martin had been a teacher? Martin was _talking_ to Wolfram?

“So anyway, I don’t have you on Facebook, do I?” Martin asked. Wolfram was about to respond when Yuuri, who had been going around the table to talk to the students, approached them from behind. He looked at Martin, who grinned at him, and asked him, in Japanese, of course, which anime he liked, to which Martin responded. The guy next to Martin, the one always wearing a blue shirt, asked Yuuri which anime was _his_ favourite. 

Yuuri scratched his chin, thoughtful. “I would have to say Naruto,” he responded. Wolfram scoffed a little, why was anime always a subject whenever Japan came up as a subject in any coherence? Yuuri then turned to Wolfram, who was busy sulking, and asked him as well; “which is your favourite anime?” also in Japanese, of course.

Wolfram looked up at Yuuri instantly. “My favourite is also Naruto,” he blurted out, although truth to be told, he thought the show seemed absolutely ridiculous. He had once seen a picture of the main character, Naruto, on the internet which was the only relation he had to the show; Naruto was a ridiculous looking ninja boy who wore an orange jump suit for an outfit, if it could be called that, and blue goggles. He also had bright, yellow, spiky hair. The combination of his looks had made Wolfram so nauseous he had gone into the bathroom to vomit, although nothing had come out. There was no way he could ever take Naruto seriously. 

Martin and the blue shirted guy, who were the only ones besides Yuuri who had actually heard him, looked at Wolfram in surprise. “Really?” Yuuri asked, delighted, and suddenly interested in engaging in a conversation with Wolfram as all the other responses he had gotten was ‘Bleach’ or ‘One Piece’ or ‘Love Hina’. “What is your favourite scene?”

When Wolfram didn’t say anything, Yuuri simply shrugged, concluding that Wolfram simply hadn’t understood what he had said. But Wolfram had understood, alright.

\--

Later that day, sometime after nine in the evening and after doing some extensive shopping at the supermarket, Doria locked herself into the apartment she shared with Wolfram. She sighed to herself as she put the bags on the floor to untie her shoelaces. She was about to place her shoes neatly on the shoe stand when she heard a strange noise coming from the livingroom, causing her to shoot up from her position. She grabbed one of her shoes and moved towards the livingroom, ready to attack if necessary. 

Doria and Wolfram had only lived together for about a week. At the beginning of the semester, they had both lived in each their student dorms on opposite sides of the city, but after becoming friends, and considering they were both spoiled brats with parents who paid for their every need, they had decided to move into a nice, private flat without the annoyance of having to share a kitchen, livingroom, bathroom and particularly washing machine with messy and annoying strangers. 

Doria entered the livingroom and was about to throw the shoe at the person in there when she noticed it was just Wolfram in front of the TV, his hair tied up in a towel as he had just taken a shower, eating potato chips from a yellow bag reading ‘onion flavour.’ Wolfram’s favourite. She rolled her eyes.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Doria said and put down the shoe. She went back into the hallway where she left her shoe and picked up the shopping bags, before emerging into the kitchen from where she could still speak to Wolfram as the kitchen and livingroom were somewhat conjoined, only separated by a huge opening in the wall where there used to be a door. 

“I’m watching Naruto,” said Wolfram. He turned down the volume, but only slightly, before he turned around, looking into the kitchen where Doria was, while munching on the potato chips. 

“I know,” said Doria, who now had her back turned against Wolfram. She rolled her eyes, even though he couldn’t see her face, and started emptying the shopping bags on the counter. “I thought there was a burglar in here.” It was Wolfram’s turn to roll his eyes. 

“Burglars don’t go into houses to watch Naruto,” he said. 

“More likely than finding you watching Naruto,” she shot back. She turned around to look at him slightly when she had unpacked all the groceries, before she stuffed the plastic bags into a small container beneath the sink where they kept them. She then walked towards the livingroom, but stopped in the kitchen entrance, leaning against the frame of the opening. “And eating potato chips.”

Wolfram looked at the potato chip in his hand and shrugged. “Well, it’s the weekend,” he said. “We don’t do school on Fridays. Or did you forget?”

“I’m a blonde, not a goldfish,” said Doria and pointed at her own hair as if to strengthen her statement. “My point is, you always tell me I’ll get fat if I eat them.” She looked at Wolfram with a smug look. “I wonder who will get fat now.”

“Well,” said Wolfram, shooting her the same, smug look. “You’re a woman and women gain weight faster than men. We build muscle, and you just kind of…” and he looked Doria from head to toe with his eyebrows slightly raised, “… fill out around the edges.” Doria put her hands on her hips in annoyance, her eyes widening, giving Wolfram the ‘are you serious?’ look. 

“What?” Wolfram said, and scoffed. “It’s not like it’s my opinion, it’s just physics.” 

“Whatever,” Doria said, rolling her eyes again. She walked back into the kitchen and started unwrapping the ingredients she had bought for their planned chicken mango curry dinner. “And if you think I’m watching Naruto with chicken mango curry, you’re wrong.”

“Sure, sure,” said Wolfram with a sigh. He turned around and paused Naruto. “Gossip Girl?” He didn’t wait for her response, and immediately began searching for it on his MacBook. They had almost finished season one, as they were now on episode 14; “The Blair Bitch Project.” Doria walked over to the couch, now standing behind Wolfram. She was holding a mango, and presented it to him.

“If you don’t help me with dinner, you really will need these potato chips,” she said, indicating that he wouldn’t get any if he didn’t get up from the couch within the next couple of minutes. 

“Bitch,” Wolfram said playfully and threw a potato chip at her when he had finished setting up Gossip Girl. 

“For that you’re only getting half a portion,” Doria laughed, before she threw the potato chip, which had landed in a fold in her cardigan, back at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually finished this chapter a while ago, but I've re-written, re-written and re-written it. I even re-wrote it right before posting because I found some things that fit better into the next chapter than in this one. I'm still not sure if I'm satisfied or not, but it's about high time I posted the next chapter. So here it is - chapter 3! Chapter 4's layout is already pretty much finished, so I'll hopefully be able to post again shortly.


End file.
